


You Shield Me

by janto321 (FaceofMer)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bottom John, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Nightmares, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Protective John, Protective Sherlock, Top Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-11
Updated: 2013-11-11
Packaged: 2018-01-01 04:06:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1040148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/pseuds/janto321
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John protecting Sherlock from thugs is nothing new. Neither is Sherlock protecting John from his nightmares.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Shield Me

Sherlock winced as the gun blast echoed in the space. He glanced over to see John had moved his gun to a different target. But the men were dropping weapons now, the wounded one holding his arm. Sherlock’s phone was in his hand, already texting Lestrade. He couldn’t help but see the fear on their faces, the ice in John’s eyes. They were amateurs: John was not.

“Look, man, we didn’t want any trouble,” said one, keeping his hands up. John’s gun never wavered.

“The police will be here shortly,” said Sherlock, taking in the young man. Broken home, occasional drug use. Typical.

“You all right, Sherlock?” John’s voice was as calm as if discussing a cup of tea.

Sherlock stepped closer to him, barely brushed his hip with his hand. “Quite all right.”

John’s eyes flickered to Sherlock, tongue wetting his lips as he shifted his hold on the gun imperceptibly. Sherlock looked towards the door, small smile on his face. There was the sound of cars and he knew the police had arrived.

“Here are your thieves, Inspector,” said Sherlock as Lestrade led the way inside. “John shot one.”

“Just a little,” said John quickly. “He’s fine.”

Lestrade muttered about paperwork as John quickly slid his gun back into his jeans, covering it up with his jacket. Sherlock watched the action closely, never tired of it. More police were arriving now and they quickly slipped out the side door.

“Let’s get some dinner on the way home,” said John as if he hadn’t just been staring down half a dozen armed men.

Sherlock made a non-committed noise as they walked back towards the main road. He tugged John into an alley once they were far enough from the police cars and kissed him deeply. If it was up to him he’d kiss John in front of the Queen and everyone, but he knew John would rather fewer people know about them. And contrary to John’s belief he did listen. Sometimes.

John smiled against his kiss, then pulled away, chuckling a bit. “Come on, or else we’ll never get supper.”

Sherlock hardly saw the harm in skipping a meal. Or several. But John had a peculiar desire for regularity. He brushed John’s hand then kept his own to himself as they walked to the main road and quickly got a cab to deposit them at Angelo’s.

He watched John eat, realizing quickly that they hadn’t had anything since breakfast. Of course John insisted that he eat something, so he did, if only to please him. His foot found John’s shin under the table and rubbed gently, but John had grown better at ignoring him.

The sun was setting as they walked back towards the flat. Sherlock noted the colors as John stuffed his hands in his coat against the chill. He was quiet, perhaps already thinking of his next blog entry, going by the tiny way his brow moved.

“Sherlock!” John suddenly pulled him back from the street, seconds before a car came around the corner.

Blinking, Sherlock looked at John, still gripping his arm. He could see the elevated heart rate, the wideness of his eyes. Fear. His own heart pounded in his ears. “I am fine, John.”

John pulled him into a hug, resting his head against Sherlock’s shoulder. Sherlock was surprised, cautiously holding him close until John took a breath and stepped away. “I don’t need to see you hit by a lorry. Be more careful.”

“I shall,” he promised easily, already knowing it was a lie.

John shook his head, knowing as well. “Come on you git,” he said affectionately.

They got back to the flat with no further incident. John installed Sherlock in his chair and went to make some tea, setting his gun on the coffee table. “Why don’t you see if there’s anything on the telly?”

Sherlock sighed and picked up the remote, landing on the news. “Oh no, Sherlock, not that,” said John, handing him a cuppa and reaching for the remote.

“You always say I am not well enough informed of current events.”

“Next thing we know you’ll see a case and then you won’t sleep tonight.” John adjusted his pillow and sat, putting on some banal program. Sherlock saw him get settled out of the corner of his eye. He picked up a book and Sherlock smiled a little, pretending to watch the telly.

After a while, John started nodding off in his chair. Sherlock stretched loudly, startling John awake. “Bed time for me,” announced John, putting the book aside.

“Will you sleep downstairs tonight?” asked Sherlock, watching him closely.

Smiling, John got up and kissed his forehead. “I will.”

Sherlock moved into the kitchen to check on one of his experiments while John got ready for bed. For once John didn’t fuss at him about coming to bed too, which frankly gave Sherlock more cause for concern. He left the door open a crack while Sherlock adjusted with his equipment and tried to think about what could be wrong with John.

It probably wasn’t the gang. After all, they’d only threatened Sherlock, John had made sure it didn’t get any farther than that. And it wasn’t the first time that had occurred, nor would it be the last. It was the near miss with the car then. He put down his beaker and looked at the bedroom door. Did John need him to come to bed then? But he hadn’t asked.

Putting down his experiments, Sherlock went to John’s computer. He hadn’t written anything tonight of course, but there were still a few drafts on his blog. Sherlock frowned, reading them over. He still didn’t understand what anyone saw in John’s write ups. Biting his lip he closed the computer again and looked towards the door.

Treading quietly he walked down the hall and pushed the door open. The light from the rest of the flat spilled across the bed. John looked small curled up on his side in that big bed. He twitched and muttered as Sherlock watched. Closing the door silently, Sherlock stripped out of his clothes, letting his eyes get used to the darkness. John gave a tiny yelp in his sleep.

Sherlock was across the room before he even realized he was moving, gathering John up into his arms. John came awake, struggling for half a moment before he realized where he was and crushing Sherlock’s lips with his own. Sherlock could feel him trembling. “John,” he said softly when the other man pulled away.

John turned his head, embarrassment clear in the way he held himself. “You can put me down, Sherlock.”

Sherlock looked at him a long moment, then lay John down on his back, kissing him again and running his hands down his sides. John moaned softly. “You don’t have to…” he started.

“I want to.”

John smiled up at him. Carefully, Sherlock tugged down his bottoms and pants. John moaned against Sherlock’s lips as the long fingers caressed his hips. This was the mystery and miracle of John Watson, so formidable and unyielding to the world, and yet under Sherlock’s hands he was transformed into something more forgiving and open.

“I need you,” said John softly, wrapping a hand around Sherlock’s half-hard cock and nipping his shoulder.

Sherlock groaned and reached for the lube on the bedside table. “Then you shall have me,” he rumbled deeply.

John arched up before his hands even touched his thighs, raking blunt nails down Sherlock’s chest. Biting at John’s shoulder, Sherlock spread his legs. “Yes, Sherlock, please,” he breathed.

He quickly lubed his fingers, pressing inside of John. His lover reached back to grab the headboard, opening himself wider as he rocked against Sherlock’s touch. Leaning down, Sherlock kissed the head of his leaking cock, swirling his tongue around it until John was panting and thrusting up for more.

Pulling his head away from John’s cock, he watched his face. Adding another finger sent a momentary wave of discomfort, quickly changing back to pleasure. Whatever had been bothering John was gone now. Sherlock squeezed his hip and John opened his eyes, licking his lips as he watched him.

Sherlock felt his heart clench. John may have been a mystery, but there was no hiding the raw need on his face. Leaning down he dragged his teeth along John’s hip, followed quickly by a brush to his prostate. He cried out, grabbing Sherlock’s shoulders, nails digging in now, trying to get his mouth back on his cock at the very least.

Instead, Sherlock bit his inner thigh. John spread his legs wider. “For fuck’s sake,” he growled.

Licking a strip up John’s cock, Sherlock withdrew his fingers and pushed up his knees, lining himself up. John’s hands grabbed his hips, all but yanking him forward. Sherlock pressed inside, kissing along John’s jaw until he could suck on his earlobe.

John’s hand scrabbled along his back as Sherlock moved deeper with every thrust, John’s body greedy for him.  He stilled as he watched him. It was always a marvel, the way John felt underneath or above him, the act itself always somewhat the same, yet different.

Teeth biting the joint of shoulder and neck brought him fiercely to the present. “Stop deducting in bed,” growled John in his ear.

Sherlock grabbed John’s arms and pinned him down with one hand, moving out of range of his mouth. His other hand wrapped around John’s heavy cock, making John’s eyes screw tightly shut as he writhed beneath him.

“Beautiful,” growled Sherlock, hardly aware the sentiment was escaping his lips. John’s panting and small cries played like music in his ear. Skin on skin, sweat soaked and warm. Perhaps this then was what John did. Gave him a human heart after all.

He captured John’s lips with his own, tasting the unique chemicals that would always remind him of John.  The body beneath him tensed and with a twist of his wrist John came. He swallowed the shout, feeling him clenching tightly around him, coming moments later with a cry of his own.

Letting go of John’s wrists, Sherlock cupped his face with one hand, kissing him passionately. John wrapped his arms around Sherlock back and rolled them over, taking control and kissing him thoroughly until Sherlock broke the kiss and turned his head to breathe. Then his kisses focused on Sherlock’s neck for a few long minutes until he collapsed happily against the crook of his shoulder.

Sherlock held him close, knowing the nightmares would stay away the rest of the night now. John hummed happily and ran his fingers through his lover’s hair. Out of everything Sherlock had experienced in his life, the one thing he had never really expected was to find happiness with another soul. But he was grateful in ways words could never say. Closing his eyes he gave way to sleep, sated, content and safe.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at [merindab.tumblr.com.](http://merindab.tumblr.com/)


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